


A Breath of Heir Apparent

by orphan_account



Series: Fullmetal Fortnight 2014 [15]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic, Xing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months into the pregnancy, May and Lan Fan discuss what to name their daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Breath of Heir Apparent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for FMA Week 2014. Prompt 9-A: "Tears". Also because two friends of us asked for May Fan kids fluff. Consider it step one.
> 
> Lan Fan is a trans woman, so, yes, she and May can have canonical kids. Ling has kept the philosopher's stone [in other words, he can't have children] and is aroace but that's life. [clinks glass]
> 
> Unedited/unbeta'd/etc.

“If she’s to be the heir to the throne,” says May, tapping her chin with the end of the calligraphy brush, “then she should have an appropriate name. I presume the _Emperor_ —” She speaks his name dryly, but Lan Fan has known her long enough to detect the affection in the half-amused crescent moon of her smile. “—has already butt in with some utterly ridiculous names, I presume. Does he want us to name her _Ling_ as well?”

By her left side, Lan Fan glances at the letter May is writing. Addressed to someone in the Chang Clan. She recognises the name: Chang Bolin, one of May’s uncles and a high-ranking member of the Clan. “I’m certain he’s not _that_ narcissistic,” Lan Fan protests gently, scanning the remainder of the letter. Of children and bearing heirs and a promise that the child is not illegitimate so much as secretive for her sake and the sake of her lover. Lan Fan swallows, bites her tongue, finds her words and presses on. “For the time that I’ve known him, I should be able to judge that much accurately.”

The incense burns low; May lights another stick, then adds a second, both long, thin, and swirled with the pattern of a serpentine dragon for good luck. The private room, part of the pink-infused Chang quarters, fills with the scent of spice and the relaxing undertone of cherry blossoms. On the other side of the flat table, Xiao Mei bounces up and down on a small gold plate of bamboo shoots broken up into tiny pieces just her, the edges serrated with the telltale marks of one of Lan Fan’s kunai.

May leans into Lan Fan’s side. “Mm, what about Fan?”

Lan Fan wrinkles her nose. “You care to name her after me?”

“I was going with the reading of _mortal_.” May winks, and Lan Fan slips her right arm over her lover’s hips to pinch her elbow. “Ow.”

“I don’t need a reminder of _that_ calibre. And I don’t need to remind Ling, either.”

May inclines her head, braids falling forward onto her chest. “He might as well name me heir apparent.”

“The nobles would twist their heads and threaten a civil war,” Lan Fan answers, cradling the injured elbow. Well. ‘Injured’. “As long as he marries the fifty wives, he can rotate them through his chambers without ever sleeping with a single one.” She shrugs. “On some level, I suppose that the immortality was the best thing to happen to him, with that regard.”

“And now I, the heir presumptive, am carrying another heir that he plans to take on as his legitimate heir.” Smiling—from her position, Lan Fan can’t _see_ May’s face, but she can _feel_ her lover’s smile in the Pulse—May wipes her face. “What about Mingzhu?”

She writes the name on a scrap of paper, and Lan Fan frowns. “Pearl? I would like to stay away from gems. What about Peizhi?”

“Too mundane.”

“Qiaolian?” May doesn’t answer for a moment; Lan Fan glances at her to find her lover quivering. “Are you crying?”

Trembling against her, May nods her head. The braids shuffle softly in their susurrus. “Not exactly.” Xiao Mei tilts her muzzle, twitches her ears, yips questioningly in May’s direction. “I’m not _crying_. Don’t you know that _crying_ is almost always about sadness? You cry at funerals; you cry over the sick; you don’t _cry_ because you’re having a baby—”

Within a flash Lan Fan has thrown her arms around her lover, curled up and inwards. Her right hand at the back of her lover’s head, fingers curving under the braids and thumb atop one of those dumpling nubs she’s learned to love so much. Her left between May’s shoulder blades, supporting her up. May’s head butts under Lan Fan’s chin; she hugs her lover closer to her body. “May.”

May’s fingers wrinkle the fabric of her robe taut. “W-what?”

“You’re going to be the most incredible. To our daughter. _Ours_.” Caressing May’s head, neck, shoulder, arm, wrist with her right hand until she meets her lover’s clenched fingers, she wriggles her thumb into May’s palm. When she keys into the _chi_ she senses May’s soft smile. “You hear me?”

“Mmhm. You’re not telling the whole truth.”

“What do y—”

May lifts her chin. Her irises are _wet_ and _glittery_ as if someone has painted her eyes with the night sky, and Lan Fan has never seen anyone more beautiful in her life. “You’re going to be _just as good_ , if not even better.” Letting go of the front of Lan Fan’s shirt, May grabs her lover’s shoulders instead, shaking her; tears dampen Lan Fan’s cheeks like a shower of spring rain. “You pretend to be all serious. All _this one exists to serve_. But you care. You care so much that it hurts _me_. You just want the best for everyone.” Lan Fan blinks, lips parting as if to speak, and May shakes her head furiously. “ love you so much, you big dummy.” May lunges forward to touch her cheek to Lan Fan’s, a bolt of warmth. “You ask me why _I’m_ crying because you’re so selfless that l just—I want to—”

Lan Fan can feel the wetness on her face, and she’s no longer sure if it’s only May crying, or if her joy has burst the banks as well. “I love you too, May.”

May bobs her head. They breathe, hearts synchronised in the _chi_ , and at length May sits up. “So.”

“Xi Feng?” Lan Fan suggests. “Since Ling’s sigil _is_ the phoenix?”

“Chang Xi Feng?” May sniffs. Xiao Mei has waddled over, a bamboo shoot in her mouth, and May scritches the panda’s head just as Lan Fan reaches out to scoop Xiao Mei into her palm; the women laugh at one another. “I’m not _too_ sure.”

“We still have a few months, hm?”

May beams, and Lan Fan wonders how such a goddess could possibly exist on this earth. “Yes, Lan Fan. And then forever and day.”


End file.
